


Hold on to the Air

by Aria_i_Adagio



Series: Whatever I've Done - First Draft [10]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Multi, OT3, Polyamory, Smut, The Moon - Freeform, The Star, poly route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-05 06:10:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17319461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aria_i_Adagio/pseuds/Aria_i_Adagio
Summary: NSFW material is confined to ch. 2, if that's something you want to avoid." ... Scout barks happily and bounds down the beach, turning back to beckon us forward.  I take Julian and Asra’s hands in mine and follow her along the beach.  Julian stops every so often to pluck shells from the surf, then catching up easily to us with his longer legs to hold the shells up to our faces as if they're fine jewelry.  The corners of his eyes crinkle in a genuine smile when he finds one that particular matches Asra’s eyes, and he laughs as he tucks it into a pocket.As we walk the beach grows wider, and Scout leads us further from the ocean.  Small coral like shrubs begin to appear, dotting the landscape with unexpected colors.  Tiny creatures dart like fishes into and behind them as we approach.Ahead of us, the ground falls away.  Scout is waiting for us at the edge.  She extends her hands to us, then with a cheerful bark hops over.  Asra and Julian exchange a concerned look, but so far, Scout has done nothing to threaten us, and nothing in these realms follows the rules of the real world.  With a shrug, I step over to the edge of the cliff, ready to follow her down. ..."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning: self harm scars  
> Notes: Title taken from a song by Bi-2 - “Держаться за воздух.” Video can be found  here and a very literal and not particularly poetic translation of the lyrics is here. They sound better in Russian. I promise.  
> If you really enjoy tracking on what someone listens to while they write, a thematic playlist is available here.  
> This picks up from the end of the prior part of the series ["Exhaustible and Inefficient."](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16653694/chapters/39047731)

When I open my eyes again, the sun has risen and the beach is warm again.  Julian is still sleeping beside me. I trace my finger over his cheekbones and kiss the tip of his nose affectionately - lightly, he needs sleep.  Yawning, I stretch my arms above my head and try unsuccessfully to get a better look and the tattoo over my ribs before giving up and doing back up the buttons of my blouse.  With the sun up, the temperature of the beach is more appropriate to its appearance.

I kick the sigils from the sand and walk down to the edge of the ocean.  Sunlight glints off the waves as they crash onto the sandy beach. I let the waves foam around my bare feet.  Where the water was frigid the night before, it’s now warm and soft from the salts. I close my eyes for a minutes, letting the sun wash over me and curling my toes into the gritty sand.  When I open them, the current is swirling against the tide. The water foams for a moment, and then turns into Asra’s curling hair.

Shouting for Julian, I run out into the waves and throw my arms around Asra, pressing my face to his chest and blinking back tears of relief as he runs his hands through my hair and whispers something soothing.  Ilya is not far behind me. I laugh as he hoists Asra up in his arms, kissing him soundly before setting him back down in the surf. I take Asra's hands in mine and walk backwards out of the waves, pulling him after me.  When I've gotten him - a his trailing gown - past the surf, I close my eyes, and work the same spell I did earlier, drying out his clothes. Then I grab Ilya's hand, doing the same for his soaked clothes.

Asra touches my chest, just over my heart, fingertips pressing lightly.  He rests his other hand on Julian's chest, and his gaze flits back and forth between us.  “You're safe. Both of you.” He leans his head and Julian's chest and slides his hand around my shoulder pulling me close.  “You kept each other safe.”

Julian wraps an arm around Asra and kisses the top of his head.  “Well, mostly it was Dema keeping me safe.”

“No, Asra's right.  We kept each other safe, Ilya.”  I would still be caught in self pity and loathing if Julian hadn't been with me.  

Asra tightens his arm around me as he chest begins to shake with sobs.

“Asra?”  Julian's eyes are wide with concern.

“What is it?”  I wiggle free from his arm and take his hand.  The pile of blankets is only a few feet behind us.  I tug on Asra and Julian’s hands pulling them toward it.  Asra collapses next to me, burying his face in my lap, chest still shaking from sobs.  Julian kneels behind us, and runs a hesitant hand over Asra's back. “Sweetheart -” I'm not used to this.  Asra is the strong one, the together one. “What's wrong?” He doesn't respond. I run a hand through his hair and lean slightly forward, as if I can shield him with my body, while he cries.  Ilya moves closer to me, one hand still running circles on Asra's back, and the other wrapping around my back to rest on my waist.

“What do we, um, do?”

I continue stroking Asra's hair.  “I think just this.”

Eventually, Asra sobs taper off.  He sits up and rubs at his eyes. “A long time ago,” his voice is soft when he speaks.  “The people I cared most about in the world left one morning, and they never came home.  That's why it's difficult for me to let myself care about people, but both of you, I couldn't help myself.  And to think that you might not -” His chest heaves again and he leans back against Julian.

“Asra -”  I want to tell him that it will be alright, that between the three of us, we’ll figure out how to get Julian and I both back to our realm.

He picks up my hand and presses my knuckles to his lips.  “I can’t lose the two of you.” He turns my hand over, then freezes as my sleeve pulls away from my wrist.  “How did -?”

“I don’t know.  It was like here, this body remembered something of what it was.”

He pushes the sleeve further up my arm and kisses the scarred flesh.  “Dema, I, I never knew how -”

I press a finger to his lips, cutting him off.  “It's okay. I understand.”

“Are you okay?”

“I had Ilya.”  I run my thumb across his bottom lip before leaning forward to kiss him.  “I'm alright. I'm going to be alright. At least, I’m going to try to be alright.”

When I pull back Asra’s lips curl in a slight smile.  He turns his head and presses a kiss to Julian’s throat and whispers.  “We’re going to be okay.”

A bark from behind me interrupts us.  I turn my head and see the strange little dog who had tried to help Julian and I on the starry bridge in the void between realms.  She barks again and wags her tail happily.

Asra laughs and holds out his hand to the little dog.  “Oh, is this your mysterious guide?”

She sniffs at his fingers, then licks them, leaning her head to the side for Asra to scratch her head.  “Aroof?”

“Her name is Scout.  Or so the Magician tells me.”

Asra looks at me contemplatively.  “He answered a question?”

I stick my tongue out at him and stand up, tossing Julian’s shirt back to him and straightening my clothes.  “That’s still the only straightforward information I’ve gotten from him.” Scout bounds over to me and grabs my hand in her tiny paw, tugging me forward.  “I think she wants us to follow her.”

“She did help us before.”  Julian slides his arms into the sleeves of his shirt and does a couple of buttons before stopping.

“I’ll admit that I don’t have a better idea.”  Asra closes his eyes, his masquerade gown is replaced by his usual shirt, trousers and scarf.  He arches his back into a feline stretch before standing and offering Ilya a hand. He pulls Ilya to his feet, then absently does up another button of his shirt.  

Scout barks happily and bounds down the beach, turning back to look at the three of us with her luminous eyes and beckon us forward.  I take Julian and Asra’s hands in mine and follow her along the beach. Julian stops every so often to pluck shells from the surf, then catching up easily to us with his longer legs to hold the shells up to our faces as if they're fine jewelry.  The corners of his eyes crinkle in a genuine smile when he finds one that particular matches Asra’s eyes, and he laughs as he tucks it into a pocket.

As we walk the beach grows wider, and Scout leads us further from the ocean.  Small coral like shrubs begin to appear, dotting the landscape with unexpected colors.  Tiny creatures dart like fishes into and behind them as we approach.

Ahead of us, the ground falls away.  Scout is waiting for us at the edge. She extends her hands to us, then with a cheerful bark hops over the edge.  Asra and Julian exchange a concerned look, but so far, Scout has done nothing to threaten us, and nothing in these realms follows the rules of the real world.  With a shrug, I step over to the edge of the cliff, ready to follow her down. Below is a colorful forest, and behold that I can see a lighthouse rising from a second ocean.

Asra’s hand folds around my arm.  “Dema.” There’s a hint of reproach in his voice.

I look back.  Julian’s face is horrified.  He catches the hand Asra isn't already holding and pulls me against him farther from the cliff edge.  “Maybe let’s see if we can find another way down.”

I nod and fold my fingers around Julian's, repenting of frightening him.

Julian maintains his grip on my hand as we walk along the edge of the cliff.  Asra occasionally approaches the edge, peering down, and looking back at us to shake his head.  Ahead of us, the sky is filled by large figures, gracefully cavorting in the sky. Julian looks up and gasps in surprise as an expression of wonder returns to his face.  “This place can’t be.”

The figures come closer to us, recognizable as massive rays, their fins undulating in the sky.  A curious one circles slowly down toward us. Julian quickly pulls of his glove and reaches out, letting his fingers trail along the edge of the creature's fin.  The ray circles back around, rolling over to expose its belly. Julian laughs then enthusiastically rubs the rays belly, informing it - in sing song tones - that it was a good sea pancake.  The best sea pancake.

Asra wraps his arms around me from behind and rests his chin on my shoulder.  “Did he hit his head?”

“Oh hush.  I've seen you baby talk stranger creatures than that.”

The ray rolls back over and bumps playfully against Julian, who continues to talk to it.  “Say what do you think about giving us a lift down off of this cliff?” The ray butts against him again, then settles to hover just above the ground.  Julian scrambles onto the creature's back and then beckons us with a wave.

“Well, that's not something I ever expected to see.”  Arsa unwraps his arms from around me. “Shall we?”

I take Julian's hand and let him pull me up onto the ray's back.  He laughs again and settles me in front of him before reaching down for Asra.  The ray’s skin is silky beneath my fingers as we glide down to the bottom of the cliff.  Scout is waiting for us at the bottom. She runs up and licks my hand, as Julian gives the ray a final pat and a large dose of praise.  She gives Julian and Asra a look that I interpret as somewhat disappointed before trotting off into the forest that grows at the base of the cliff.

Scout finds a clearing in the woods, turns around three times, sits down, and takes off her pack.  She unfolds a blanket and unpacks a basket of cheese and bread, apparently settling in for a leisurely lunch.

“Huh?  Well she doesn’t look like she’s going anywhere for a bit?”  Julian loops his arms through Asra’s and mine. “Shall we go explore?”

Like the shrubs on the cliffs above, the trees are fanciful shapes and vibrant colors, more suited to a sea than a forest.  Tendril like leaves undulant on the current of a soft breeze. A waterfall tumbles from a strangely shaped formation on the bluff.  Another group of bulbous figures, resembling jellyfish, drift in the mist stirred by the waterfall. Julian drops our arms and runs forward, clearly delighted by another whimsical creature.  He stands on a low rocky outcropping beside the pool at the bottom of the waterfall and pats the jelly, it squishes beneath his hand. Laughing aloud, he lets his entire body fall against the creature and then bounces backward, windmilling his arms to regain his balance.

Asra turns to me, one side of his mouth pulled up in a smile.  “That looks fun. Come on.”

“What about time?  I know it’s not the same here as in our realm, but -”  

Asra settles his hands on my shoulders.  “I’m pretty confident we have time. Haven’t you figured out whose realm we’re in?”

“I -”  The glowing lighthouse at the center.  The fanciful garden like quality of the forest, and that strange formation at the waterfall, as if it was being poured from a jar.  “The Star?”

“I think so.  Reprieve - regathering strength - is one of the qualities of the Star.”  He leans over and kisses me, then pulls away, dashing to the jellyfish, shouting as he does.  “I’ll race you both to the top!”


	2. Not to Touch the Earth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from The Doors  
> Note: Um, shameless smut here. (Or maybe - oh my god, did I just write this? - ashamed smut.) Yeah, that’s about it. I'll be over here, waiting to go to hell for this...

  


We all tumble - roughly simultaneously - onto the top edge of the cliff.  Julian sweeps Asra and I both up into an exuberant hug, pulling us down on the ground with him.  “That was amazing! I don’t even care who won.” He lies back on the ground pulling us both down with him.  I curl up on Julian’s right, one leg looped around his and my head resting on his chest. 

Asra leans over him from the left, a wicked smirk on his face.  “I’m pretty sure I won.” He lowers his lips to Julian’s kissing him slowly, softly.  Julian sighs as Asra pulls back from him and closes his teeth about his lower lip. Asra winks at me and moves his lips to the side of Julian’s jaw.  Getting the idea, I shift my weight, dragging my leg against his groin and working the other side of his neck, stopping to nibble and suck at a spot that produced a particularly sharp intake of breath.  Asra works down Julian’s chest, undoing the one or two buttons of his shirt that were fastened in the first place. He pauses to caress my thigh then moves it aside to undo Julian’s belt. One of Julian’s hands works under the waist of my pants and curves around my ass.    

“That's it, Ilya.  That's good. Mmmm.  Don't bite your lip.”  I rolled his bottom lip from between his teeth with my thumb and touched my nose to his.  “I can manage that so much better,” I whisper and pull his lip between my teeth. He moaned as I do; although the cause is me, or Asra, or the combination of both of us is anyone's guess.  “Sweet boy.” Continuing to run my thumb over his lip, I pull back from him, just enough to watch his eyelids fluttering. “Beautiful.”

I glance down at Asra.  His face is hidden behind the fall of his hair as he continues to work his hands and mouth over Ilya's cock.  Ilya spasms beneath him, crying out as he comes. 

Asra sits up. He meets my eye and licks his lips in a particularly shameless fashion before grabbing the collar of the shirt Julian is still wearing and pulling him upright and kissing his mouth.  Letting Julian lean back on his elbows with a languid grin if his face, Asra curls a hand around my neck and pulls me to him. His mouth tastes if Julian and him and I lean into the kiss, almost toppling the two of us back across Julian's legs.

Asra breaks the kids and runs his thumb over my bottom lip.  “How are you still fully clothed?”

The fastenings of my blouse and pants are undone, but nothing has come off yet.  I shrug and look down at Ilya, running my hand through his hair and smiling as he leans into my touch.  “You two were a bit of a distraction.”

“Mmmm.”  Asra slides my blouse over my shoulders.  “I should pay some attention to you as well.”  He climbs over Ilya's long legs, pausing to press a kiss to his stomach.  His hands move to my stomach, then slide up to my breasts, thumbs circling my nipples before continuing to up cup my face and bring my lips to his.  I shifted myself forward until I'm straddling his lap, one hand pressed against his chest and the other sliding between us and down Asra's body. He moans as I palm his hard cock through the fabric of his pants.  I lean back a few degrees and drop my other hand, hurriedly undoing the laces at the front of his pants. I run my thumb over the head of his cock - simultaneously velvety soft and stiff, moist with precum then slide my hand between my legs gathering gathering some of my own wetness before curling my palm around his base and pulling slowly along the shaft.  Asra groans and leans his head against my shoulder.

He pushes me back on the ground, and runs his hand down my body, hooking his fingers in the waistband of my pants.  I lift my hips and he drags them off me before working his way back up my legs, lips soft and teeth just sharp enough against the inside of my thighs.  Tongue, warm and wet, circling my clit, just so, then tauntingly dragging along the crease where my thigh meets my leg, kisses working up to my neck, my mouth, and he tastes like me, and him, and Ilya.  Asra’s lips move back to my neck and I glance over at Ilya, who’s rolled over on his side, shirt hanging off his shoulders as he watches us through half lidded eyes and palms his cock with one hand. I hook my legs around Asra’s back and murmur his name.  

He pulls away from my neck and presses his forehead to mine.  “What is it, love?” His kisses my mouth again, then looks down at me, eyes almost innocent.  

“Dammit, Asra.”

“What do you want?”  He slides one hand between us, us, fingers, the head of his cock sliding against me.  

“You,” I gasp.  He smirks and kisses me again, teeth tugging on my bottom lip, before rolling his hips against mine, sliding into me.  I tighten my legs and arms around him, as if I can keep him here, keep him home. And then there’s no thought, only sensation and motion, and him, and I’m nowhere else, and no one else outside the feeling of being lost with him in the light and color exploding behind my eyes.

I come back down with Asra lying against my chest, and Julian alternately running a hand through my hair and Asra’s hair.  He kisses the tip of my nose. “Hey you.”

“Hey, yourself.”     

He leans over and kisses the back of Asra's neck.  Asra sighs happily and nuzzles against my breast. Julian smiles and returns to my lips.  

“Do you, um, have it in you for another round?” 

“Oh, I think I just might.”  I half sit up, weight resting on my elbows.  Asra lifts his head and looks back and forth between Julian and I before grinning broadly at the both of us.  Bodies warm against each other, we shift around until I'm straddling Julian's lap, arms thrown around his shoulders. A line of mouth shaped bruises marks either side of his neck and chest.  “We did a bit of a number on you, didn’t we?”

“Mmm, you can again, if you -”  Whatever he was about to say is lost in a gasp as Asra wraps his arms around from behind and kisses the back of his neck.  I slide down onto him, tilting and shifting the angle of my hips, until it’s just right, and lose my hands in his hair, and press my face tight against his chest.  I come a moment before he does, smothering my cry against his neck. His arms tighten around me as he cock throbs inside me, then goes still. I stay pressed tight against him as our breathing slows, then he runs one hand through my hair, as he lies down on the ground, pulling me down with him.

Asra curls up beside us.  He presses a kiss to Julian's shoulder and then his hand trails down my back.  Magic tingles along my skin and all the sweetly sticky, sweatiness of sex disappears.  He rests his hand just above my hip and looks at me, a question in his eye. “Go ahead,” I say softly, and he traces the sigils of a contraceptive spell along the small of my back.  The magic settles through my pelvis with a soft warmth. Asra rests his head on Julian’s shoulder and rubs his hand in small circles along my back. Above us, the midday sky has been glazed over with oranges and pinks, as the sun sets.  

“Can’t we just stay here forever?”  Julian mumbles.

Asra kisses Julian’s neck again, and sits up, shaking his head sadly.  “I tried once. When I was very young.” He pushes Julian’s messy curls off of his forehead.  “We aren’t meant to reside in these realms.”

“Just a couple more minutes then.”

Asra smiles again - indulgently this time, and leans over, kissing the tip of Ilya’s nose and the corner of my mouth.  “Okay then. A couple more minutes.”


	3. I had to Consult Some Figures of the Past - SFW

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from John Frusciante, "Going Inside."

The jellyfish are still massed at the edge of the cliff.  In the falling light, the gentle glow of their incandescence is magnified, cool blues and greens playing against the vibrant coral and magenta of the sunset.  Beyond the forest, the oscillating lamp of the lighthouse pulses faintly.

When we reach the bottom of the cliff,  Scout is waiting at the edge of the pool.  She perks up one ear at us, and gestures for us to follow her; although there's none of the apparent reproach from before.  As the last of the light fades away, she does something to her walking stick and the end lights up, providing a clear beacon for us to follow.  

We spend less time waking through the trees than I would have predicted from the view on the clifftop.  The forest breaks abruptly, opening onto a rocky beach. A pier is built out into the water, leading out to a mid size boat and looming behind that, the lighthouse itself.  If it's light was faint before; it's almost entirely absent now, overwhelmed by an ominous darkness. Scout takes my hand in her little paws and starts to pull me down the pier.

“I don't like the look of that.”  Julian grabs my other hand, stopping me from following her.  She huffs in disgust and drops my hand, fixing Julian with a disappointed look.

“The boat or the lighthouse?”

“The lighthouse.”  Julian glanced away from it, looking down the shoreline.

“It shouldn't be that dim.”  Asra gnaws at his bottom lip and looks up at the night sky.  “And I don't like that it's grown dimmer.”

“Well, we won't find anything out from here.”  I start to follow Scout down the pier, intending to pull Julian along with me, but he pulls back.  

“Look there are baby seals.  I think we should go say hi to them.”

Asra and I exchange a look, but he had said that in this realm we should have adequate time.  I step back to Ilya and squeeze his hand. “I wouldn't mind.”

Scout yaps in protest, but Julian ignores her, dashing down the beach with Asra and I following him.  When we catch up, he's kneeling beside one of the seals, petting it's head and scratching underneath it's chin.  It barks to it's companions and another seal exits the surf. The second seal nudges my legs, knocking me down to sit on the sand.  I stroke it's back and glittering sea foam pulls away to coat my hand. Julian's seal lifts it's nose and pushes it against his face, smearing his cheek with the same luminescent substance.  He laughs. “See this is nice. Nothing dangerous.”

Asra sits down on a rock just behind and watches us.  “Ilya, what's wrong?”

“Wrong?  Nothing's wrong.  I'm just wandering bizarre magical realms, hoping that we'll somehow hit on what we need to know to get back to the land of the living.  All of us. Whatever that is.” He looks pointedly at me, then cradles the seal's head in both hands and presses his face against its velvety head.  “Meanwhile my sister is chasing down a fucking sociopath, and I, uh, barely understand what's going on, so I . . .” His voice trails off. He lifts his face, now covered with the stardust like substance.  “I know I can't run forever, and the longer I do, the more of an ass I feel like. But I don't know how to fix this. And I'm scared of what I’ll find in that lighthouse. I can't bear much more.”

“Ilya.”  Asra reaches out and sets his hand on Julian's back.  “You're not alone.”

“I wish I could just keep everyone safe though.”

“Caring about people -”  Asra runs his hands along Julian's shoulders then cards his fingers through Julian’s hair.  “Wanting to protect them, that goes both ways.”

Julian tilts his head back into Asra's hands.  “And what if whatever else is out there is too much, even for all three of us?”

“We're not on our own, Julian.  Other people want to help us. Nadia, Portia, Dr. Satrinava . . . Mazelinka seems like she can beat most anything into submission with that spoon.”

He laughs and looks over at me, then stretches out his hand and touches my face.  “You're right. I know you're right. There's just a difference between . . . between knowing and believing.”  He stands up and offers me a hand. “I think I can at least pretend to be ready though.” He pulls me to my feet.  As we walk back down to the pier, Asra wraps one arm around Julian's waist.

Scout barks at us and whines, as if questioning whether we've finally gotten our acts together.  Julian looks at her and rolls his shoulders sheepishly. “Um, sorry, about that.”

She shakes herself, fluffing up her fur, and then takes both his hands on her little paws, patting them, as if to say that all is forgiven.  

~~~~~  


Between Julian’s knowledge of the boat and the wind that Asra raises to fill the sails, we skate across the water.  Julian maneuvers the boat alongside the pier by the lighthouse and tosses a loop of rope around a post. Asra hops over the rail onto the pier, and before I can properly roll my eyes, Julian picks me up and passes me over the rail to him.

“I could have managed myself,” I mutter into Asra’s ear.  His response is a laugh and kiss pressed to my cheek.

Stairs spiral around the inside of the lighthouse; thankfully, these aren’t endless.  We reach the top, a room enclosed my glass, with a magnificent lamp at the center. Interlocking spheres of delicate gold surround a miniature universe of stars that twinkle, but dimly, as if something has muted their power.  Hands extended, I approach the sphere, not quite sure if I should give into the impulse to touch it. As a do, I feel a small, lithe body press against my legs and hear a purr. I glance down in time to see a ginger cat slink around my ankles before stretching then with a pop of light transforming into a tall figure, draped in blue, carrying a water jar, and smiling at us.  She's almost human but for her huge entirely blue eyes and the stripes of fine red gold fur that adorn her body.

“You made it; although you did -”  She winks a brilliant blue eye at Asra.  “Take the scenic route.”

“Umm, sorry.”  Julian drags the toe of his boot against the stone floor.  He either missed the wink or its recognition that Asra masterminded the longer detour (albeit with willing accomplices).  “That was mostly me, I think.”

“You didn’t need to be afraid.  I’m as harmless as can be. My tests aren’t to threaten you, just to help you know who and what you are, and grow into what you should be.”

“You’re the Star, aren’t you?”  Asra ventured.

“We have a winner.  Asra, so scared to love, lest you lose control, and then so ready to lose yourself when you do.”  

She turns her gaze to me.  Her smile is kind, but there is a touch of sadness in her eyes.  “Dear, brave Dema, you throw yourself at any challenge, knowing the consequences or not.  But those consequences aren’t yours alone, even if the choice is.” Asra takes my hand as she speaks.  “But you’re almost ready, I think.”

“Ready for what?”

“It’s dangerous.  I won't sugarcoat it.”

Julian takes my other hand as she watches us.  I squeeze his fingers before responding. “Very little hasn’t been.”

“To face the Devil.”

 Asra pulls me against him, and Julian curses.  “I knew we wouldn’t like what we found. Why her?  What do all of you still need from her?”

The Star looks at us sadly.  “It isn’t fair, all three of you have already given so much.  Let me try to explain. The Devil has been up to no good for years now.  Cutting deals, trying to tear down the barrier became our realms and yours.  And if he’s allowed to succeed -”

“That would be the destruction of all the realms,” Asra says softly.

“Asra, isn’t there an alternative to Dema, something you and I could do?  Send her back somewhere, anywhere safe.”

“Maybe.”  Asra’s arms wrap around me, holding me tighter to his chest.  I can feel his heart thrumming in time with his.

“Asra, Julian - if the Devil does actually -”  I’m cut off by the Star clearing her throat and look back at her.  

She pours water from her jar allowing it to coalesce into a glowing sphere.  Within the sphere I can see small figures moving. Asra and I in the upstairs of the shop.  He’s trying to pack a bundle, and I’m removing items from it as quickly as he puts them in. I feel a throbbing begin between my eyes, as Asra pulls me even closer to him.  Within the watery sphere, Asra grabs my hands, turning them over, showing the scars running up and down my arms. I jerk away from him, both in the memory and in the lighthouse.  In the now, I turn around, facing him. “That was the fight we had, wasn’t it? When you left.”

He presses his forehead to mine.  “I told you that you shouldn’t make the decision yourself, I didn’t trust your judgment.  Then, then I just left when you wouldn’t let me make it for you. Dema -”

I press my fingertips to his mouth, as the Star continues.  “It was her choice to make, but none of you were free from the consequences of that choice.”  The scene inside her sphere shifts again, still the shop, but this time Asra is sitting at the table, dusted in ash and Julian cleans blood and grit from his torn hands.  

I wrap my hand around the back of Asra’s head and pull him to me.  “I’m sorry, love, I’m so sorry.”

“I told Ilya it was his fault.  That you -” Asra’s voice cracks and he lifts his head from my shoulder, extending a hand to Julian.  “Ilya, it wasn’t your fault.”

“But I could have, if she had left with you -”

“Stop it.  Both of you.  If anyone is to blame . . . it’s my own fault, my own recklessness.”  I turn and grab Julian’s hand without letting go of Asra’s.

The Star is still watching us with liquid eyes.  “In truth none of you are at fault, but it’s terrifying to not be able to place the blame when something awful happens, isn’t it?  But the three of you have an opportunity to do it differently now.” She bats at the globe of water with her hand, and the shop is replaced by the ballroom of the palace, and Nadia’s uncompromising face as she looks down at Lucio, then shifting to Portia chasing Malak through the hallways.  She tilts her jar up, and the water follows backwards into it. “None of you are alone, if only you’ll accept the support others offer you.”

Asra kisses the inside of my wrist.  I close my eyes, heart sinking at the sight of him crying again.  “This time I’m with you, whatever your choice is.”

I look back at Julian and pull him closer to me.  “I know you’re scared. I am too, but I have to try.  And maybe, if we work together this time, we’ll all be okay.”  Julian steps closer to and wraps his arms around both Asra and me, pulling us tightly together.  

The Star beams her approval at us, mirrored by the stars in the lamp which begin to pulsate with ever increasing brightness.  “The future is never fixed, but you are stronger together.”

I let Julian hold us for a moment before wiggling free.  “So what do we do?”

“You still need to master your own strength, Dema.  You’ve come so far, but you’re not quite there yet.”  The Star reaches in her robes and pulls out a battered golden compass.  “Asra, you’re familiar with this.”

“I - how did you get that?”

The Star winks again.  “The things you need have a way of finding you; at least, in my realm they do.”  She hands the compass to Asra, and arching her back sinks down to the floor, once again a small ginger cat that rubs around all of our legs in farewell before headbutting us in the direction of the door.


	4. Another Mother's Breaking Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from The Cranberries, "Zombie"

“So, what does this compass do?”  I keep Julian’s hand tight in mine as we descend the lighthouse stairs.

“Well, it definitely doesn’t point north - if north even applies here.” Asra explains.  “It points toward your heart’s desire. So, if I want nothing more than to defeat the Devil and get you safely back in a body in our realm, I suppose it will guide us in that direction.”  

Asra pushes open the door at the bottom of the stairs.  Instead of opening onto the pier with the boat, the door leads out into a sundrenched desert.  We’re hit by a blast of hot air. Beside me Julian sighs heavily. “I suppose by this point I shouldn’t expect doors to lead back to the same place as before.”

I shrug out of my sweater and knot the arms around my waist.  “It could be cold again.”

Julian takes off his feathered jacket and tosses it over one shoulder.  “Um, Asra, is it possible to sunburn here.”

Asra laughed.  “Don’t believe that is possible, and it shouldn’t happen.”

“Umm...okay...”

I trace the spell I usually use to keep from getting sunburned over my cheeks and then reach up and do the same to Julian’s even paler face.  “That should work. How did you ever survive on a pirate ship?”

“Uh, really wide brimmed hats.”

“Oi.”  The image that comes to my mind is Julian in an oversized, floppy straw hat, adorned with a sunflower.  “Okay, Asra, which way is this compass pointing us?”

Asra points to the right.  The horizon is dominated by a massive, dark shape reaching up into the sky.  We start walking.

 

As we come closer, the massive shape resolves into a tree whose roots crack into earth and bare branches cut the sky.  No, not bare - in place of leaves, the branches are draped with heavy iron chains.

Julian stops and dabs at his face with the shirt, he stripped off some time again.  “What is that monstrosity?”

“I don’t know.”  Asra digs the canteen out of his bag and takes a sip before handing it to Julian.  

A flash gold glints between two roots catching my eye.  “Is that a door?” 

“Huh?”  Julian hands me the canteen, the metal surface and the contents are cool from a spell.  Pity those tend to be limited in the amount of space they can cover. He shades his eyes with his hand and peers out.  “I think it is.”

“The compass is still pointing to that tree.  Let’s go have a look.” Asra takes the canteen from me and offers it to Julian again before tucking it back into his bag.

 

As we approach the tree, the vine like chains begin to sway and strain toward us.  They glow an angry red, pulsating more heat into the already parched air. The door is tantalizingly close as we reach the edge of the chains limit.  Something about the door - perhaps the engravings on it - seems familiar to me. Asra grabs my arm. I look back at his concerned face and roll my eyes at him.

“Even I can tell running at that is a bad idea.”  

“Maybe there’s a safer approach from a different side?”  Julian is peering up at the chains, studying how they connect to and drape from the branches.  “We might at least get a better idea of how these work.”

The chains shift as we walk the perimeter, wrapping themselves about the tree as they follow our movements.  Julian stops and frowns at the rusted links. “Asra, Dema keep walking for a moment.” He remains still; Asra and I continue on a few paces, looking back over our shoulders.  Some of the chains have remained where Julian is standing, stretching toward him. Others have followed us. Julian claps his hands together. “Dema, you stay still, Asra walk a little further, I need to test a hypothesis.”

Asra gives me a bemused look.  I pat his hand. “Trust him on this one.”

Asra backs away from me, further along the perimeter.  Another few chains break off from the mass, staying where I stand, while the others follow him.  “Ha!” Julian shouts in excitement. “Science!” He jogs to where I’m standing, the chains that stopped for him rattling behind him, and beckons Asra back.  “A portion of the chains seem to have fixated on each of us. So if you two walk in one direction, and I walk in the other -”

“They’ll wrap themselves in knots.  That’s brilliant, Ilya.” Asra finishes for him.  “Okay, you go back the way we came, Dema and I will keep going in this direction.”

Ilya sketches a quick bow in the air, which doesn’t come across as well bare chested with a sweat soaked shirt hanging around his neck as it would have in his usual get up, and turns back the chains that have set their sights on him dragging along.  

“Be careful!”  I yell after him.  Julian turns around for a second and waves to me, a madcap grin on his face.  

Asra takes my hand in his.  “Come on, let’s see if this actually works.”

The chains follow us as we make several passes around the tree, moving in a progressively closer spiral as they catch themselves in hopeless knots.  Finally, the path to the door is clear. Julian whoops with success and leans over, resting his elbows against his knees. “Score one for the empiricism.”

I laugh and kiss Julian’s forehead; it’s too hot for a celebratory embrace.  Asra smiles and takes the canteen back out of his bag, handing it to Julian. “You’re brilliant, Ilya.”  He touches his hand to Julian’s jaw. “Truly brilliant.”

Asra turns back to the door, reaching out a hesitant hand.  His posture straightens suddenly, and then he freezes. 

“Asra?”  I step closer to him.  “What is it?”

“Can you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“Voices - from the other side of the door - they almost sound like -”  Before Ilya or I can grab him, Asra has bolted for the door, banging on it with his fists and yelling, the closest I've ever seen him to a panic.  “Is it you? Are you in there? Please, be there!” For a moment his form shifts to a small child, with tangled hair and wearing a dirty shirt that's turn in multiple places.  Then the door gives way. Asra stumbles, landing hard on knees.

Ilya gets to him first and kneels beside him.  Asra is looking through the doorway, mouth slightly open in disbelief.  I follow his gaze down a marble terrace. A very surprised man and woman look back at us.  Asra speaks first, softly, as if he's in a dream from which he's scared of waking himself. “Mom?  Dad?” He stands up, steadying himself on Ilya's shoulder.

The woman speaks first, her voice halting.  “Asra, is it - oh!” All three run down the terrace, particularly flying into each other's arms.  

Ilya and I look at each other, then back to the scenes unfolding before us.  The woman has the same kind eyes as Asra, and while her hair is concealed by elegant scarf, I suspect Asra got his distinctive coloring from her.  The man has the same slight build, and his hair, though dark brown, is at least as fluffy as Asra's. 

“His parents?”  Ilya's voice is quiet.

I can hear snippets of their conversation.  “You've grown?” “How long has it been in our world?”  “More than twenty years.”

“Yes.” I nod.  “His parents.”

Julian's eyes go wide, and he quickly shakes out his shirt and throws it back on.  I start to laugh at him, then realize that the shirt I'm wearing is probably close to see through from sweat.  Cursing quietly - although I doubt either have noticed anything Julian and I may or may not be wearing - I work a spell to dry out both our clothes and quickly untie my sweater from my waist and pull it over my shoulders.  Julian has done up one more button on his shirt than he usually can be bothered with.

The temperature on the terrace is far more pleasant than outside, neither particularly cool or warm.  It overlooks a volcanic landscape of hot springs and geysers, steaming or erupting in slow motion. I move a bit closer to Asra, not wanting to interrupt.  Julian follows, fretting under breath.

“Just be yourself,” I whisper to him as I smooth his shirt over his chest.

“Right.  Myself... Uh, are you sure about that?”

“Darling, I'm very sure about that.”

Asra looks back and beckons us to him.  “But I wasn't always alone. This is Dema.”  He pulls me to side and wraps one arm around my shoulders.  He takes Julian's hand. “And this is Ilya . . . or, uh, Julian.”

“Um, either is okay.”

“And these are my parents, Aisha and Salim.”

Julian shakes hands with Salim, managing not to be too awkward, and Aisha regards us both with a knowing expression and warm eyes.  

“It's a pleasure to meet both of you,” she says with a smile.  “Of all the improbable ways to meet his parents.”

Her welcome seems to put Julian more at ease.

“Is this where you've been this whole time?  Why was your gate sealed with burning chains?  Can you . . . can you come home now?” The questions pour out of Asra, one following the other.  Aisha reaches out and gently brushes tears from his cheeks.

“There's so much to explain.”  Salim rubs his head sheepishly.  “And I promise we will, but no, this doesn't mean we can come home.”

“I believe the chains were only meant to keep outside help from reaching us.  It's something else that keeps us here. We've been separated from our familiars and they're trapped somewhere in this realm.”

“I remember them . . . Chimes and Flamel.  I could never say their names right.”

“Without them, we can't leave this realm, not truly.”  Aisha looks down sadly. “I can feel their presence, and your father and I have been to search for them many times, but there's always some new obstacle we can't quite defeat.”

“If you can't leave without them -”  Asra runs a hand across his face and back through his hair in the same gesture Salim used a moment before.  “We’ll come with you.”

I take Aisha's hands in mine, remembering Asra's despair at being separated from Faust.  “Maybe the five of us can succeed.”

She smiles at me - more with her eyes than with her mouth - and squeezes my hands before releasing them.  “Thank you. Come, follow us.”

“Yes, bypassing those chains might attract his attention.  Asra, we'll explain on the way. Or at least we'll try.” 

“Whose attention?”  Julian asks.

Aisha conjures an image in front her her, a black and white goat, with a smile of cruelly pointed teeth.

“The Devil,” I whisper, but without any surprise.  After what the Star told us, it makes sense that he is pulling these strings as well.

“He’s behind trapping you here too?” 

“Yes.”  Aisha descends stairs from the terrace and onto a path that winds through the steaming geysers.  She hold her skirt just above the ground with one hand and beckons us with the other. “Come. We’ll tell you what happened as we go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a slow chapter. But I like writing Aisha. :) Thanks for reading.


	5. The Truth is Lying Beneath the River Bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from Soundgarden, "Burden in My Hand"  
> oh, Chris...

Aisha summarizes as we go.  She and Salim had been hired to construct Count Lucio’s prosthetic arm.  When they finished, Lucio was absolutely delighted with the work - and informed that he’s shortly have both of them executed so that no one else would ever have something as glorious.  Asra’s hands ball into fists when he hears that, and he nearly trips over a loose rock. Ilya grabs his shoulders, steadying him before he fell.

“He locked us in separate cells, somehow enchanted so that we couldn’t use our magic.  And that’s when the Devil came to me. He offered me a deal. If I agreed to leave behind our realm forever, he’d free your father from Lucio’s cells and prevent Lucio from harming you.”

Salim picks up.  “And he offered me the same deal.  I thought, if I took it, your mother would be free and the both of you would be safe.”

“I thought the same thing.  But, you see he didn’t specify what free meant.”

“So, while we were no longer trapped in the dungeons we were both trapped here.  All without the Devil being caught in a lie.”

“Unless, of course -”  Aisha stops and turns looking back at Asra her eyes filled with tears.  “Were you safe from Lucio?”

Asra presses his lips together.  “He never harmed me. At least not directly.  But - I was just a child, that night you didn’t come home . . .”

Aisha reaches out, her hand just short of Asra’s face.  “I know, Asra, I’m so sorry. I swear we’ve never stopped looking for a way back.”

Asra leans his cheek against her outstretched palm.  “I . . . I’m sure you never did.”

The ground beneath us rumbles and contorts, breaking into a open chasm between Asra and Aisha’s feet.  Julian grabs Asra again and pulls him away from the edge as Salim does the same thing for Aisha. Salim surveys the ground with a concerned look.  

“This part of the gate isn’t very stable.  I’m afraid it might be best if we split up for a bit.  There’s a path down between those two boulders over there.  It’s a bit longer but safer. We know this pathway well enough to be safe on it.”

“There’s a stream at the bottom of the cliffs.  We’ll be waiting there. Be careful.”

As we walk away, Asra continually looks back over his shoulder.  Aisha and Salim wave us forward until we’ve reached the boulders that mark the correct path.  They wave to us a final time and then turn aside for their own path.

The route down is clearly marked, as Salim had said, by black stones, smooth and almost large enough to be called pavers.  Julian tests the surface of one. He boot skates easily over the glossy surface.

“Be careful.”  The path switchbacks down the edge of the cliff.  Julian picks up a small stone and lobs it over the edge, watching its descent.  “I don't think you'd fall . . . exactly . . . if you slipped, but it . . . uh . . . wouldn't be a pleasant tumble.”

Asra is still looking back at the last point where we could see his parents, clearly distracted.  I wrap my arm around his and press my cheek against his arm. “Are you okay?”

“I -”  He sighs and speaks softly, almost dreamily.  “This was the first thing you did...”

“That I -?”

“When I brought you back, one you were . . . calmer.  You took my arm like this, like you had done a thousand times before, and that was the thing that let me know it really was you I had brought back, and not just something . . . someone that looked like you.  A trick. What if they're not there? What if this is just another trick?”

“Asra, the way they looked at you - no trick is good enough to fake that.”  I pull him over to a boulder and sit down, tugging him down beside me and pulling him into my arms.  He tucks his face against my neck as I rub his neck and back. It’s pleasantly warm here from the hot springs and geysers, but he still trembles.

“I'm scared they won't be what I remember, what I've imagined.  What would you do?”

“I . . . I don't know.”  Any recollection of my parents is locked away behind a wall of flame with my other memories.  That gap didn't stand out from any of the others. “Julian?”

“If somehow, I discovered my parents hadn't died in that shipwreck -”  Julian sits down on the other side of Asra with a heavy sigh. “I, uh, don't know what I'd do.  I used to try to imagine that, but it's so impossible. I'm sure I'm not the person I would have been.  Would they know me? Like me even? Pasha - Pasha doesn't remember them at all. But I would want to try to know them.”

“What if they didn't like the person you've become?”  Asra sits up and turns toward Julian, setting one hand on his thigh.  “If they decided that they didn't want to know you?”

Julian sets his hand on top on Asra's.  “Well, I'd still have you, and Dema, and Pasha, and a village worth of _babushki_ , so... It would be worth taking the chance, I think.”

I curl my arm around Asra's bicep and lean my head against his shoulder.  He kisses the top of my head then turns his other hand over twining his fingers in Julian's.  “I remember what it was like to have a parents. I think, I want that again.”

Julian squeezes Asra’s hand and then stands back up, carefully pulling both of us to our feet.  We pick our way carefully down the rocky path and to the meandering stream at the bottom of the cliff.  True to their word, Aisha and Salim are waiting for us. Aisha stands from a fallen log that she was sitting on.

“Oh, good.  I was starting to get worried.”  

The stream is easy enough to hop over.  Beyond the it, the landscape changes dramatically.  A dark forest grows on the other side. The trees are massive, twisting far up into the sky and blocking out the sun.  The forest floor is covered over with a thick layer of leaves, low light plants pushing through at limited intervals.

“Well, this has certainly grown up since the last time we were here.”  He pushes away the undergrowth, as if hunting for a familiar way through.

“It’s always something new,”  Aisha muses. “We’ve tried to reach our familiars before, but each time the way forward has been blocked by something else.”

“These trees look like a different species.”  Salim stretches out his hand and touches the rough bark of one.  The massive tree convulses, and before he can pull away from it, opens into a gaping maw.  Aisha throws her arms around his waist as the branches come to life, flailing wildly. I react without thinking, gathering a ball of energy into my hands and spiralling it out at the tree.  One of the branches changes direction, swinging for me. Asra pushes me down, but he isn’t quite fast enough. The branch whips across my right arm and shoulder, cutting through fabric and flesh, flinging us both backwards onto the ground.  There are violent crashes from the other side of the tree, as Aisha and Salim are pulled further into the undergrowth.

Asra’s eyes dart back and forth between me and the tree.  Black sap burns along the lash from the branch. Julian crouches down beside us, eyes wide.

“Asra, go help them.  I’ll be okay.”

Asra exchanges a look with Julian then scrambles up turning his attention back to the tree.  He buffets it with wind and water. Aisha shouts for him to keep up whatever he’s doing, but I can tell that it isn’t quite enough.  I try to push myself up, but any energy is being sapped from my body.

“Julian, you’re going to have to help him.”

“What?  How?”

“Like we did in the Tower.  You have magic, just let him use it.”

“I’ll try.”  He presses a quick kiss to my forehead and stands up, rubbing his hands together nervously, before standing beside Asra and placing one hand on his shoulder.  Asra glances at Julian, a look of shock on his face, and then his mouth curves into a determined smile. His hair stands on end, a glowing halo, as the water around him forms into glittering ice crystals that he drives at the trees, battering against the thrashing branches.

I manage to push myself up with my left hand, rises on unsteady feet as the branches slow and curl back on in on themselves in defeat.  Aisha appears, hauling Salim out from the tangle of limbs and vines. Thankfully, they're both unharmed, if adorned by a few crinkled and blackened leaves.

Asra laughs aloud as his hair settles back into its usual level of fluffiness.  He tosses both arms around Julian and pulls him down into a celebratory kiss.

“That was amazing!  When did you learn - oh, Dema.”

I smile at the two of them.  My arm isn't hurting anymore.  Actually, I can't feel it at all, or - I realize as I begin to sway on my feet - most of my left side.  Julian is beside me in a moment hoisting me in his arms.

“Be careful of the sap,” I mumble, trying to keep my right arm away from his body.

“Oh,” Salim looks me over with concern.  “Let me heal that.”

I glance over at Aisha and Salim.  He's breathing hard, clearly winded, and her arms are around him are probably the only thing keeping him upright.  “Asra can.” I lean my head against Julian's shoulder.

Aisha clears her throat.  “Let's move a bit farther from those trees first.”  

They find a friendlier clearing, and Julian lays me down on the ground then sits behind me, cradling my head against his thighs.  The poison from the tree is working its way through my body. I can't feel my left side down to my waist, and I'm fairly certain that if I tried to talk my words would slur.  Asra kneels down next to me, and pulls the scorched and torn fabric of my sweater away from my arm. The wound is angry, red, more of a burn than a cut. I fight back a moment's panic and turn my face away.  Julian traces the bridge of my nose, then my lips, both the side I can feel and the side that's rapidly going numb. “You're safe. You'll be fine, _solnishka._ ”

My arm begins to feel cool as Asra's magic begins to pull away the sap.  I wiggle my fingers and half sit up before Asra gently pushes me back down.  He continues to work, the sap hardening and falling away as my flesh knits itself back together and returns to its usual color.

“We all need a few minutes rest, I think,” Aisha says.  She's watching Asra work with a hint of pride in her eyes.  “You've become a fine magician, Asra.”

Salim smiles warmly.  “It'll be strange, you not needing our help.”

Asra sits back on his heels and glances to the side away from his parents.  “I had to learn fast.”

There's an awkward silence.  Aisha speaks first. “I'm so sorry, love.  I never wanted anything other than to keep you safe, and I failed miserably at that.”

Asra strokes the back of my palm.  “I wish things had been different, but I understand why you made the choices you did.  And,” he sighs heavily. “There are a lot of things I wish that I had done differently.”  Julian touches his arm, and Asra looks up a rueful grin playing around his lips.

I push myself up, flexing my arm experimentally and rubbing the bridge of my nose.  Julian rests a hand on the back of my neck, kneading it gently. I lift my face and look at the both of them, smiling.  “That was amazing, both of you.”

Asra looks over at Julian and laughs.  “We might make a magician of you yet, Ilya.”

Julian blushes.  “I didn’t really do anything.”

“Still, I don’t think I could have done it without you.”  Asra stands up and offers me a hand. Standing, I can feel my toes again even if my arm is a bit stiff.  Across the clearing, Aisha picks herself up and brushes moss off her skirt.

“Are you ready to continue?  I can still feel our familiars, they must be close.”

I ignore the concerned look that Julian gives me.  “I’m good if everyone else is.”

Aisha guides us through the forest, ignoring the brambles that catch and tear at her skirts.  Limestone formations start to break through the forest floor around us. She leads us down into a ravine, then pauses at the mouth of a cave.  She and Salim exchange a look and then run into the cave, shouting the names of their familiars.

Asra grabs my hand and Julian, and we run after them, twisting and turning through the rack formations.  The passageway opens out into a chamber. Stalactites and stalacmites grow together on the opposite side, burning chains wrap around them, forming a cage through which I can just make out the forms of two serpents, entwined together.  The chains groan and move, pushing Aisha and Salim back.

“It’s like the tree,”  Julian whispers. He moves away from us to survey the chamber, looking for some way around the chains, or some potential to knot them on themselves again.

“Asra, let’s see if we can get any closer.”  I take his hand in mine and step closer to the glowing prison.  The chains lash out for us, and we jump back, separating as we do.  The chains strain toward Asra, but seem to ignore me. I step forward cautiously, but the chains remain uninterested.  

“Dema?”

I look back at Asra.  “I don’t understand either.”  My next steps forward are hesitant, but the chains still don’t respond.  More confident, I approach the bars that separate the serpents from us and push my arms through the gaps in their prison.  Chimes and Flamel wrap tightly about my arms, as I slowly pull them past the bars and walk back through the quivering chains to where Aisha and Salim stand, looks of amazement and relief on their faces.

Aisha reaches out and strokes the head of the golden serpent, tears in her eyes.  “Chimes.”

Salim holds out his hand for the purple serpent who happily slithers onto his outstretched arms.  “Oh, my friends, have you been trapped here all this time?”

Both snakes twist around Aisha and Salim, looking back at me, flicking happy tongues in my direction before sliding into the warmth of their masters’ clothes.  

“Dema -”  As Salim begins to speak, the cave shakes.

“No time.”  Julian grabs my hand and Asra’s, and we bolt for the exit.  

We make it out just as the cave collapses behind us.  All five of us stand around for a moment staring at each other and catching our breath.

“Dema, we’ll never be able to thank you.”

I shrug.  “I still don’t know what happened.”

Salim reaches in his pocket and pulls out a strange mirror.  “I have a idea.” He angles the mirror toward me. “Ah, just what I thought.  You have quite the aura, Dema. Here, observe.” When he holds up the mirror, it enlarges in his hands, showing our reflects.  Asra and Aisha are both surrounded by swirling purple mist. Salim’s aura is a pulsing warm orange. Julian’s aura appears as tendrils of smoke, limned by a faint crimson.  But the aura around me churns with all the colors of the rainbows, twisting and playing about me.

“What does that mean?”

“Well, most magicians specialize in a certain kind of magic: alchemy, divination, so on and so forth.  You become strong in some ways, but it also leaves you vulnerable in others. But Dema’s magic appears to have never specialized.”

Asra’s hands run over my shoulders, and he leans close to my ear.  “Gorgeous,” he whispers.

Julian ventures a question.  “So, you’re saying Dema’s magic is particularly adaptable?”  

“Precisely.  The same spell isn’t likely to work on her more than once.”

I glance over at Julian.  “Do you think this is what the Star meant?  About me being able to defeat the Devil.”

Julian bites his lip and shrugs, still clearly unhappy about the idea of me being involved in any way with a fight against the Devil.  Asra’s hands tighten on my shoulders as the ground trembles again. The golden door we entered through rises up from the rock beneath our feet.  Slaim cracks his knuckles and looks pleased with himself.

“Good.  I wasn’t sure I could still summon the door after all this time.  And I wasn’t looking forward to the walk back.”

The door swings open, revealing a Vesuvian street at night.  Glowing paper lamps light the cobblestones, and I can hear the sounds of the masquerade still carrying on just beyond a corner.  Aisha turns and smiles warmly at Asra. “Now we can go home.”

Julian, Asra, and I exchange a look.  We never got around to telling them why we were in the magical realms.  Asra lets go of my shoulders and steps closer to his parents. “Actually, the three us can’t leave just yet.  We still have business to finish with the Devil.”

Aisha’s face falls, but then she nods.  She holds out her arms and pulls Asra into a tight embrace, joined in a moment by Salim.  “We’ll see you soon though.”

Aisha lets go of Asra and pulls me tight against her for a moment.  I don’t remember my mother, but I find myself relaxing in her warm arms and deciding that it is possible to miss something you don’t remember.  She presses her cheek to mine, then pulls Julian into a tight hug as well. He looks completely flummoxed for a moment before his expression softens.  “I trust you’ll take care of each other.”

Aisha and Salim step through the doorway and into the street beyond, turning to wave to us as the door closes behind them.  Asra sighs heavily as the door closes behind him. Julian embraces from behind and his slumps back against Julian’s chest, eyes closed for all of a moment before they snap back open.  “Wait! So much has changed since they’ve been gone. Our house isn’t even there any more. We should have told them to go to the shop. What if -”

“Asra, they’ll be fine.”  Julian kisses the top of Asra’s head and rubs his arms.

“Two powerful magicians with their familiars; it’ll be okay.”

Asra lets Julian hold him for a another minute, then shakes himself free, reaching in his bag.  “I suppose we should get back to trying to figure out how to get ourselves home. I think I put the compass back in here.”

As he’s rummaging through his bag, there’s a metallic whine as the door reshapes itself.  The gold melts away from the surface reshaping into a familiar wooden frame etched with protective spells.  The door to my shop.

“Look at that, maybe -”  Julian reaches for the handle before I can shout for him to stop.  Chains swing out from behind the twisting around Julian’s chest. I throw my arms around Julian’s waist as he’s pulled through the doorway.  Just in the corner of my vision, I can see one of the chains wrap around Asra’s ankle jerking him off his feet.

Then my vision goes dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Ilya, that was not a good idea. Maybe you shouldn’t get too comfortable with the magicky things.  
> So, I want Aisha to be my mom. Just in case that wasn’t clear.  
> Thanks for reading!


	6. Dream of Ashes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from Boris Grebenshikov, Пепел  
> [ Spotify link](https://open.spotify.com/track/23rg6ETXIqDAkZ9VQjcKsX?si=4PxVh9NDShulGJqGw1QPQQ). Have a listen even if you don't speak Russian. It's pretty epic and hits the emotional timbre I was going for.

I would lock the door of the shop behind me, but there's no point.  No reason to anything. Not anymore.

The quiet in the streets is broken by desperate tomfoolery from occasional tavern - wakes.  Phantasmagoric wakes for the dead and those soon to be dead. The tapping of shoes and the closing of hands becomes the chattering rattle of bone against bone.

I walk on.  

There's a child clutching a toy snake and crying in front of an empty house.  White hair frames his huge amethyst eyes with wild curls. I should know him. Who is he?  I know him.

“Why are you crying?”

He looks up at me and wipes his nose on the sleeve of his shirt.  “Do you know where my mom and dad are? It's dark, and I'm hungry, and they haven't come home.”  His eyes implore me for an explanation, help, anything.

“I can only help you in the future.  Not now. I can’t help you now.” Even as I say them, the words make no sense.  What future? There’s no future here. I mouth an apology to the child as my feet continue forward down the sepulchral streets.

The island waits in the middle of harbor.  I step off the edge of the pier and onto grey sand.  Another step and I’m in a corner of a building, surrounded by the sick and dying and men in awful bird masks.  The pace the room, poking at the miserable bodies on the floor with canes in their hands and the toes of their boots and dragging of those that don't respond.  Two of the bird masks approach a figure slumped in the floor next to a bed. A lock of yellow hair peeks out from underneath a greasy scarf. She looks . . . familiar.  The birdmen prod her side. She doesn't respond. My heart begins to pound in my chest. I try to yell at her to get up, but my throat tightens, and I can’t get the words or even a scream out.  The bird men scoop her up, one grabbing her shoulders, the other her ankles. Her fingers curl slightly as they carry her away, but no one notices. My heart rate increases growing louder, rising in my ears and throbbing in my temples.

Silence.

I'm on the ashen beach again.

I can't feel a heartbeat in my chest.

The white haired boy - but no longer a child, a young adult - kneels on the beach digging frantically, a beaten compass half buried beside his knee.  He's sobbing, hands torn and bleeding.

I stand on the other side of the hole he digs.  Each handful uncovers new bits of charred bone that cut into his palms.

“Stop that.  You'll hurt yourself.”

He doesn't hear me.

I kneel down across from him and grab his hands in mine.  He freezes and looks up at me. When our eyes meet, my chest seizes and my heart begins to pulse again.  

“Asra.”  I know his name now.  And mine, he says it slowly.

“Dema.”  He touches my face gently, as if he fears I'll shatter in front of him.  “I, I don't understand. You're here.”

“Where?” The sand beneath us has smoothed over, as if he had never been digging.  “Where's -” There's a name on the tip of my tongue, but I can't quite recall it. I look around us.  A forest edges the beach. A tall man stands there, holding ones of the awful bird masks in his hand. He looks at us, a bittersweet smile playing on his lips, before turning away.

“Wait!”  I can’t recall his name.  I scramble to my feet, pulling Asra after me and bolt toward the forest, covering in a single step what should have been many.  The forest turns to jungle. I can just keep sight of the man's red hair as he waves through the trees. Asra's hand remains in mind, hearts pounding at the same place.  We stumble together into a clearly, eerily lit by a red light. The man is across from us, speaking with a giant raven.

“There's nothing back there for me, just more pain.  And . . . they'll be happier there without me.”

The raven bobs it head in a nod then turns, retreating into the trees.  The man starts to follow him. I try to shout his name, but I still can't recall it.  Instead, I run after him, stumbling over roots and finally falling to my knees. Asra's hands come to rest on my shoulders.  “This isn't how it happened.”

There's a raucous cawing and flock of ravens burst from the trees, flying toward us.  I duck my head and close my eyes.

Silence again.

I'm in a musty stone hallway.  Asra is still beside me.

“I think we're in a nightmare.”  His voice is soft.

There's still a pulsing in the back of my head, but my mind feels clearer than before.  “Whose nightmare?”

We look at each other then speak at the same time.

“Julian.”

“Ilya.”

A torch flares to life beside me.  I jump back from it and close my eyes.  Asra runs his hand down my arm soothingly.  He wraps an arm around my shoulders and guides me forward a few steps.

“You can open your eyes again.”  

I do.  The torch is behind us.  The way ahead is lit by a glowing orb.  It reveals blood smeared along the walls, mostly at the height where an adult’s hand would reach, but the occasional handprint is lower and horrifyingly smaller on the wall.

The hallway leads down into a brightly lit chamber.  I've been here before. Asra and I have been here before.  The dungeons under the palace, where the plague doctors worked, where Julian worked, trying to find a cure.  In my memory, the dungeon is abandoned and empty, but in this nightmare it’s filled with bodies, stacked haphazardly on one another.  Red beetles scurry across the walls, there clicking jaws a steady drone. Asra clutches my hand in his.

Across the chamber, Julian hovers over a table, frantically running his hands through his hair and talking to himself.  “No. No. Why isn't it working. It should be working.”

The figure on the table is racked by a cough.  It sits up. My body. Eyes carmine from the plague and hunched over in a coughing spell.  “You let this happen...” It rasps out the accusation in my voice. “I should have left.”

My voice, my body.  But it's not me. I shout and run to him, trying to reach him across the table, but he can't hear me and my hands pass through him.  Asra watches from where we stood before and hand clutched over his mouth in horror.

“No, Dema, I, I'll fix this.  Please, just lie back down. I -”

“Oh Julian,” I sigh.  Then my simulacra and I speak together, I with sadness, and she with rage.  “You can't fix this.”

Red beetles swarm the table.  He sobs again and tries to push them away, failing.  They recede like a red wave leaving nothing behind. He stares helplessly at his hand then sinks down, forehead against the table.

Figures emerge from the shadows of the room.  Grotesque doubles, eyes red and watering, skin yellow with jaundice.  

“We were fine without you.”  The first, a short redhead accuses.  Julian looks up, eyes going wide. His lips mouth a name that I should know.  “You shouldn't have come back.”

He gets up from the table and backs up, bumping into a white haired figure.  

From across the room, Asra yells, “Ilya, that's not -”

Asra's double spins him about by the shoulders and shoves him back against the table.  “You're the reason she's dead.” The double leans close to Julian, running a menacing hand along his jaw.  “Even if I could give you what want, Ilya, what makes you think you deserve it?”

Asra tries ineffectively to shove his double aside.  “Ilya, don't listen. I'm so sorry, Ilya.”

With a choked cry, Julian twists away from the double and flees to his cell, the door banging behind him.  Asra's cruel double fades away. And Asra, the real one, grabs my hand as we sprint to Julian's cell. The small room twists on itself as we open the door, turning not into a tiny office, but a very familiar palace bedroom.  Portraits of a blonde man in military regalia line the walls, a mockery of the withered husk lying in the bed. Beside me, Asra's fists curl in rage.

“You could save them all.”  A soft voice - my voice - says.  A curtain is pushed back and another double appears.  Mine again, but healthy, hair hanging in neat braids about my face.  She sits on the edge of the bed, beside the sleeping man. “You know how to do it.  End the plague. It won't go away until he does.”

Jerkily, as if his movements are controlled by a force outside himself Julian sits on the edge of the bed hands hovering over the other man's neck.

“I can't he's -”

“So weak?  So pathetic?  It would be so easy to end it now.  Murdering one man is better than being responsible for the deaths of thousands.  Think if the people you'll save. Think -” She ducks her head and looks up at him through her eyelashes.  “Think of me.”

The coy gesture is the tell.  Julian jerks away from her. “No.  No. You're not her. She wouldn't say those things to me.  She wouldn't want me to do this. She, she still thought I could be good.  And Pasha wouldn't say that to me, or Asra. I've made mistakes, so many mistakes, but I can change, and I can grow, and I know that I am not a murderer.”

He turns away from her and for a moment our eyes meet, before the room dissolves around us.

. . .

A repeated heavy thumping wakes me.  I open my eyes. Julian, Asra, and I are lying in a heap on a familiar looking floor.  Asra's heart is racing just under my ear. I watch Julian's chest until I see it rise and fall.  We're all still alive. I think. I'm not sure what alive means anymore, at least in my case.

I sit up, rubbing my temples, and glance around.  We're in my shop. But it's not my shop. The banging is a frigid wind blowing the door open and closed, pushing more snow in with each gust.  But it never snows in Vesuvia. I haven't seen snow since . . . A sudden pain explodes behind my eyes and I let the thought go, grabbing the counter and pulling myself up and stumbling across the room to bar the door.  It's a little better without the wind.

I sit back down in the floor, slumping heavily against the counter.  “Asra? Ilya?” I shake their shoulders. Asra moans in his sleep. His hand reaches out and finds my arm, wrapping around it, almost painfully tight.  I pry his fingers off and wiggle close enough to him to lift his head and shoulders into my lap. “Ilya?” I say his name louder. This time, Julian's eyes snap open, and he wakes with a gasp.  

“Dema.  You. You're alright.”  He scrambles up then nearly falls forward in his haste to get his arms around me.  “You're okay.” He presses his face into my neck, shaking with sobs. I wrap one arm around him and stroke his hair, keeping my other hand on Asra's back.  

“Shh, _lyubov_ , it was just a nightmare - _tolko koshmar._ ”  I have no idea when or where I learned those words, but they must make some sense to him.  Ilya settles against me, breathing beginning to steady. He reaches down and touches Asra's face.  Asra stirs again, but doesn't wake. I shift his scarf around to cover his arms.

Julian looks up at me.  His eyes are still wide, but not as distressed as a moment before.  “I thought, I thought I saw you, the real you, there at the end.”

“It was me.  I tried to reach you, before that, in the dungeon.”

“How much did you see?”

“The Hanged Man’s realm, the dungeon -”

“Before that, there was the storm,  Pasha, I was trying to hold onto her, and I couldn’t, the waves...”

“It’s okay.  It was just dreams.”

Asra jerks and his eyes snap open.  He looks up, eyes darting back and forth between us, breathes hard.  He sits up, then leans back against my shoulder, sobbing and clutching at my arm again.  I stroke his hair and keep whispering in his ear that it’s okay now, he’s awake. He calms for a moment, then draws in a sharp breath, before speaking, rapidly desperately.        

“I saw.  I saw when I brought you back.  I was so confused. I knew what I had intended to do, but I didn't know what I had done, and you were there, but you were helpless and hurting, and you didn't know me, or Faust, or your own name.  Nadia was slumped in her chair. Muriel was gone. Those damn dogs were barking up a storm. Ilya, you were somehow there, but when you didn't remember Dema and when you looked at me the only thing in your eyes was confusion and I asked you to help me, help her, and there was hatred in your eyes when you looked at me, and I knew I deserved it, and you were gone.  And, somehow, Dema, I got you back here, and you were calmer, as long as Faust stayed with you. And . . .” He finally runs out of breath and pauses. Ilya grabs him and pulls him into a tight embrace.

“You didn't deserve that.”  He murmurs in Asra's ear. “I swear you didn't.”  Ilya unwraps one arm and folds me into the embrace.

Asra's breath gradually slows, and he looks around at the frost covered shop.  “So each of us...”

“Those were the worst parts of our lives.”  I glance down at my arms. “That we remember, at least.”  Asra takes my hand and presses my fingers to fingers to his lips.

“Did you?”

I shake my head.  “Just the Lazaret.”  Even the words send a throb tearing through my head.

“Just,”  Ilya mutters bitterly.  “So what fresh hell is this?”  He grasps the edge of the counter and pulls himself upright before reaching back down for Asra and me.  

Asra shivers as he stands and pulls me close to him.  “Maybe it's warmer in the back room.”

I shrug.  If we're lucky it'll be warmer and Asra's pile of cushions and blankets will be in its place in the corner.  I push aside the curtain and nearly cry with relief when not only is their no snow dusting the room, but the blankets are there, and it's noticeably a degree or two warmer.  I grab the first three blankets I can reach and toss one around Julian's shoulders before wrapping the second around mine. Asra is standing in front of the reading table, arms folded tight to his chest, staring down at a single card.  I drape the last blanket over his shoulders. He turns his face to me. “So, what question do we have for the card?”

“Where are we?”  I reach down and flip the card over.  Death.

Julian snorts, the same short laugh I heard before.  “Figures.”

“Julian, death isn't necessarily an adversary.”

There's an eerie laugh from the doorway and a cold burst of air.  “And Death can't do much nowadays.”

I know that voice.  I turn around slowly.  Valdemar stands in the doorway, hands folded tranquilly in front of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was a wildly fun sequence to rewrite and expand on. I needed more practice with dream sequences.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading. Don't be afraid to say hi. :)


	7. A Knife Cutting Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Boris Grebenshikov again. Go have a listen [here](https://open.spotify.com/track/3mehUbaBJ8soUNeGXX9wzy?si=_jAj5Fd7RhSoaPH0t2G-GQ).

“You?”

“Yes, me.”  They tilt their head to the side, peering at us without blinking.  “All three of you here and with your faculties intact. Curious. My little welcome gift should have snapped your mortal minds like twigs.”

“What are you doing here?”  Julian steps in front of Asra and me, blocking us from Valdemar.  The blanket around his shoulders falls to the floor.

“That’s a better question for you, 069.  You are in my realm after all?

“You're the Death Arcana?”  

“Not precisely.  But Death just really isn't what they used to be.  I have . . . taken over . . . in their absence.”

“What are you then?”

“Oh, good question.  I’m amazed you’ve foregone asking it for so long; you’re not known for self control.”  Valdemar sedately tilts their head to the side, looking at me. “What do you think magician?  Just what am I?”

I ignore Asra’s hand on my wrist and step out from behind Julian.  The very air around Valdemar is sharp, crystallized, frozen in time.  There’s a faint resonance of the Death card - when it’s drawn in the reversed position - but something beneath that as well, contorted and ossified.  “You aren’t human.”

“You say that like its a bad thing.  Humans are so fragile. But not me, not anymore.”

Anymore?  Was that the twisted presence I sensed at Valdemar’s core?  Some last remnant of a human person. “I don’t know what you are.”

“Unsurprising.  Few know anything of the process.  He’s made sure of that.”

“He - ?”  Julian’s question sounds a touch forced.  Surely there’s only one he Valdemar could be referring to.

“The Devil, of course.”  

“So that was the Devil who tricked us?  Sent us here?”

“You only know figured that out?  Disappointing, 069. I hadn’t taken you for that much much of a fool.”

Asra puts a hand on Julian’s shoulder and steps beside him.  “The Devil?” He voice is soft with affected innocence. “That’s who you serve?”

Valdemar sniffs.  “Certainly not. We’re colleagues.”

“So you’re also colleagues with the others . . .Volta, Vulgora, Vlastomil . . . who’s that last one?”

“Valerius.  Consul Valerius.”  Julian finished playing along with Asra.  I keep one hand locked around Asra’s and rest my other hand on Julian’s waist.  I can’t believe Valdemar is buying this at all, much less that they’ll remain forthcoming for long.

“Them?  They might like to think so, but no, I’ve attained an entirely different level.  It takes a long time to become this powerful. And more fortitude than any of them possess.”

“Oh, so that’s why the Devil has you doing his dirty work.  He’s afraid enough to send his most powerful ally.”

“Afraid?  Don’t be ridiculous, 069.  It’s unbecoming, if dreadfully par for the course with you.  You can’t possibly threaten him, not with your pathetic humanity intact.  If you were like me . . .” Valdemar goes silent, as if realizing that they’ve said too much.  “But, the three of you certainly have managed to be gadflies. And -” Valdemar grins, revealing those horrible sharpened teeth.  “I’ve never killed someone already separated from their body.”

I drop Asra’s hand and push past Julian, rearranging us so that he’s in the back.  Magic is already sparking around my fingers, responding to a strange buzzing, crackling, skittering noise that is slowly beginning to fill the shop.  Beside me, I can see Asra’s hair raise as he collects his own magic, drawing water from the air around us.

“Are _you_ going to fight back?  Well, it is more fun if you do.”

“Dema -”  Julian’s hands close around my shoulders.  I start to shrug him off, expecting a protest, but instead he leans down and whispers in my ear.  “Kick their ass.”

The volume of the skittering rises around us, and Asra lashes out at Valdemar with a shower of ice crystals just as he had attacked the tree earlier.  Valdemar drops their arms to their sides and laughs aloud as the ice bounces harmlessly off them. The room seems to fold and twist in on itself as Valdemar’s banadages fall away, and their body expands, growing largely than could possibly fit into my real shop.

    Chains loop around - whatever it is that makes up Valdemar’s form - writing figures, struggling, tearing apart, tangling back together in combinations that should never be, the deep roots of trees pushing through bones - human, animal, something else entirely - maggots writing to the surface, touching the chains and falling back again.  The chains, though. They’re the only thing holding Valdemar together. One comes loose for a moment. A beak like a vulture’s darts out for it, but I wrap my hands around the glowing metal link.

And scream.

Fire cuts through me.  Searing, burning out, leaving nothing, leaving...

Wind rushing through a void.  Salt air. Crashing waves. Stars that can’t be counted and the wonderful, beautiful voids between them.  Morning light. Falling, falling... Sharp jerk and a snap.

I am.

I am . . . I am thrown back onto the wooden floor.

One of the chains wrapped around Valdemar breaks.  A section of chaos tears away from the rest of their body, the substance dissolving into nothing.  Their eyes turn to me. Shock registers on their face. Then they flee, disappearing from the facsimile of my shop.

I sit up, rubbing my pounding forehead and breathing hard.  Asra’s hands close around my shoulders and behind us Julian whoops aloud.

“You did it!  You beat them.”

Asra and I exchange a glance.  He holds my shaking hands in his, pressing them to his lips.  Whatever I did . . . whatever happened . . . for a moment I wasn’t.  And that had only broken one the chains. If Valdemar had stayed, I don’t think we would have won.

But . . . I look down at my hands, stunned when I don't see burns be across my palms.  Somehow I broke the chains the Devil had wound about Valdemar to hold them together.

“Is this how I stop the Devil?  Break his chains?”

Asra looks at me, brows furrowed.  “Whatever you did, it knocked you flat.”  He presses a cool hand against my forehead and the aching behind my eyes diminishes somewhat.  “How are you going to use that against the Devil without hurting yourself?”

“I . . . there wasn’t a me to do anything.  I don’t understand.”

A new voice creeps around the corner entering the conversation.  “Perhaps I can assist?”

All three of us look around the shop.  It’s not Valdemar’s voice, but there’s no one else to be seen.

“Did I startle you?”

I shiver, and Asra wraps his arms around me.  The voice is everywhere and nowhere, like it has been waiting for me, always, patiently.

“Oh, you must be uncomfortable.  I forget how fragile your kind are, how easily you get cold.  It’s been so long since I hosted guests. Think of what this place should be.  For you to be comfortable.”

I close my eyes and picture the shop put to order.  No snow. Light streaming in the windows, the smell of dried herbs and clean beeswax candles.  A soft touch passes behind my eyes, pulling away the remaining headache. When I open them, the shop is warm.  An old woman - face craggy, pale blue eyes almost lost in wrinkles - stands in front of us.

“Is this better?”  Her voice is husky and soothing, a different kind of familiar.

Asra whispers a name.  “Anna?”

My aunt?  That one recovered memory is where I had heard this voice.

“Is that the face I’ve borrowed?  No, I am Death. I thought this shape might put you at ease.  You prefer to speak to someone with a physical form, don’t you?  This one was available.” She sits herself down on the one of the chairs at the reading table and gestures absently at the cushions strew haphazardly about the floor.  “I also seem to recall that humans prefer soft things to sit on.”

Asra laughs lightly and drags a cushion over for me and him.  Julian pauses a moment then sits down opposite of Death at the table.  She, notably, does not turn her face away, but folds her wrinkled hand under her chin and peers at him, gaze steady as she does.

“You’ve tried to meet me several times, haven’t you, young man?  Here I am.”

“You . . . you’re Death.  Why didn’t you help us earlier?”

A deck of cards materialize in her hands, and she shuffles them idly.  “It will be clearest if I start from the beginning. A very long time ago, the Devil approached me with a plan.  He wanted to merge our realms, create an endless expanse where nothing ever ends. But where nothing ever changes.  That-” She begins to lay the cards out in front of her. “Goes against my nature. I could not abide it, and I told the Devil as much.  One by one he approached the Major Arcana. Most were indifferent. Some of us, like me, opposed his plans. But all for our own reasons.  We never worked together and so, one by one, he removed us from the playing field.” She turns over cards nonchalantly tossing them on the floor.  Justice, Temperance, The Hierophant, finally her own card. “He used human pawns that had an affinity for us, much like your own affinity for the Hanged Man, or the Magician, or . . .”  Her eyes pass from Julian, to Asra, and then stop at me, crinkling into a knowing smile before she stops speaking. “He found one that had a particularly affinity for me, and deal by deal corrupted them, turning them into a demon, somehow siphoning my power into them.  As they grew stronger, I grew weaker. I still can’t return to my proper form. This is the most I’ve been able to do in years.” She taps a card against her chin. “I suppose I should thank you.”

“But if the Arcana couldn’t stop him, how am I supposed to?”

“Why did we fail, child?”

“You said you never worked together.”

“That seems to be a uniquely human thing . . . working together.  Relying on others. Your power alone isn’t enough, even if you gave over all of yourself to it.  But those close to you can give you strength. Freely even, without deception or coercion. And they draw from the ones close to them.  And so on and so forth.” She shuffles back together the cards that remain on the table and sets the stack between her and Julian. “It isn’t without its risk.  But it might work.”

“It will have to.”

She fixes me with her cool gaze.  “You’ve decided then. I wish to know, why do you so willingly agree to risk yourself?”

Asra’s arms tighten around my shoulders.  I reach out and take one of Julian’s hands in mine.  “It’s the right thing to do. I can’t leave people to suffer if there’s some chance I can stop it.”

Death shrugs.  “I will never understand humans.  You’ve made up your mind then? All three of you?  There’s no turning back once you leave here. He’ll mark you as enemies.”

Julian squeezes my fingers.  “It _is_ the right thing to do.”

Asra presses his forehead against the back of my neck.  “I trust you.”

She stands and looks us over again, a bemused smile on her face.  “There's not much I can give you. But there is this - rest. Sleep in the arms of those you love.”  She leans over and touches my forehead. Suddenly I feel the weight of days, I don't know how many anymore, without sleep.  The pile of cushions in the corner is suddenly overwhelmingly enticing. I sink down into it pulling Asra with me. “No nightmares.”  She presses her hand to Asra's head, then turn to Julian, ruffling his hair, almost affectionately. “No dreams,” Death whispers. “Just rest, children.  No time will pass in your realm, and when you wake you'll be in the Magician's realm again.” She turns, seeming to fold into herself as she does.

Eyes heavy with Death’s spell, Julian gets out the chair and climbs into the nest of pillows with Asra and me.  He puts his head in my lap and Asra curls beside us, forehead pressed against my arm and one hand wrapping around Julian's fingers.  I hear Death’s voice once more as my eyes close. A simple command. “Rest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: And I’m as caught up as I’m going to be for a bit it seems.  
> I liked the idea of Death taking the form of the Dema’s aunt. ‘Anna’ appears briefly here and in a flashback here. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Notes:
> 
> Thanks for reading! These remixes are getting a bit harder to write as the canon routes get more divergent from each other. And I think I may have to pause and see how the endgame plays out in each. But I remain resolute. Because I will have a happy poly ending to all this angst. Stubbornness. I has it.
> 
> I’ve decided that I’m going to do a serious rewrite of this entire series, as I’m enjoying the process and it’s free real estate to work on improving my ability to tell a story. I’ve revised plenty of original short fic, but nothing of this length. To that end, I really do welcome any constructive criticism in the comments - both what does and does not work. (I’ve lived through multiple workshops, a staged reading of a play, and a MA thesis defense. I can take it.) And, if an amazing person out there is willing to work with me as a beta reader, I will absolutely die of gratitude. I’m also happy to trade beta-reading favors.


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